


Retribution

by Elanshaw



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Trauma, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-23 00:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30047133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elanshaw/pseuds/Elanshaw
Summary: Jane is kidnapped and returns with vengeance on his mind.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's not enough Jane whump in the show to suit my fancy so I decided to create my own. Hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think. :)

The first thing Patrick noticed was how cold he was.

Then the pain hit, like a jackhammer to his head making him groan.

Slowly opening his eyes, he blinked heavily, a dirty grey ceiling appearing above him.

He shivered, trying to focus; but his thoughts were muddled, swirling in his mind like water circling a drain, disappearing before he had a chance to latch on to anything.

_I must be coming down with something._ He thought, and decided how a nice hot shower and some tea would clear his mind. So he began to sit up, confusion swelling in him when he found that he couldn't. 

Glancing down at himself he was shocked to find that he was completely naked and restrained tightly by the wrists and ankles to a bed that wasn’t his own.

"What the..?" he rasped in surprise; his throat instantly seizing up on him, making him succumb to a coughing fit that had him crying out as his head turned into a vise of complete and utter agony.

Dropping his head back, he clinched his eyes tight trying to ride through the pain.

This wasn't his bedroom. He wasn't at home. No bloody face smiled down from the wall beside him.

_Where am I? What's happening?_

He was lying on a thin mattress on a narrow iron posted bed in the center of a small room. The walls were the same color as the ceiling, a dirty grey; the only light coming from a bulb hanging low from the ceiling above him.

A soft chuckle sounded from somewhere behind him and Patrick gasped, tilting his head as far back as he could, trying to see who was in the room with him.

"Who's there?" He tried to curl his body to hide his nudity to no avail.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" came back a soft voice mimicking him.

“Who are you? What do you want?" whispered Patrick trying to hide the panic he was feeling.

"Who are you? What do you want?" echoed the voice.

Patrick bit his lip and pulled his head forward staring at the wall in front of him. He tried to focus on what had happened, how he ended up in this predicament; but his mind was as blank as the wall he was looking at.

"Red John." he said. Suddenly sure that he was about to come face to face with his nemesis, the murderer of his family.

He heard a chair push back somewhere behind him and suddenly felt fingers comb through his hair.

"Shhh..." said the voice.

Patrick violently jerked away from the touch causing black spots to appear in his vision, the pain in his head blaring, his eyes losing focus.

A blurry figure come around the bed to stand next to him.

"Hello, Patrick."

He tried to refocus his eyes but couldn't.

"Red…Red John?" he murmured.

"Guess again." came the voice.

Then white hot pain raced through Patrick and he screamed, his eyes flying open in shock.

A taser was pushed against his chest and the blurred figure pressed down hard, laughing heartily as Patrick's body, locked in a seizure shook the bed wildly.

Then as suddenly as it came, the taser was pulled away and Patrick fell into the darkness that had beckoned him.

The man standing next to the bed leaned over and grabbed a handful of Patrick's blood matted hair, jerking his head harshly off the bed he whispered into the unconscious consultant's ear…

"Let the payback begin."

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

Lisbon sighed and flipped over to the last page of the paperwork she was dealing with. She hated paperwork, but it was the result of a job well done. Her team had closed their latest case the night before. They had their murder suspect in lockup, a major drug dealer who killed two of his men when he heard that they were planning on going straight.

She smiled, remembering Jane's antics in the interrogation room. He had been his most annoying, smirking self but had somehow gotten the suspect to confess. She didn't know how he did it, she didn't know how she put up with it, but at this point...she wouldn't have it any other way.

She scribbled her signature on the last page and closed the file with a sigh of relief. Taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee she glanced at the clock:

11:45am.

She frowned slightly, stood and stretched then went out into the bullpen, glancing at her colleagues then at Jane's couch; he wasn't on it.

"Anyone know where Jane is?"

Van Pelt turned to her, "Sorry, no boss."

Rigsby came out of the kitchen with two mugs of steaming coffee; he placed one on Van Pelt's desk then moved back to his own.

"No boss, haven't seen him." He answered.

Cho was on the phone; he glanced up at her and shook his head.

Frowning again, Lisbon turned back to her office and pulled out her cellphone punching in Jane's number.

Just because they closed a case, didn't mean Jane got the day off. She'd have to explain to him what being a professional really meant…

She felt her heart stop when an automated voice came on:

" _The number you have called, is no longer in service."_

She pulled the phone away from her ear staring at it and then shook her head slightly; she must have dialed the wrong number.

Slowly, she punched Jane's number in again and waited.

" _The number you have called is no…"_

Lisbon hung up, a feeling of dread creeping over her.

_Why would he have disconnected his phone?_

She thought back to the night before, looking for any signs of trouble.

They had been finishing up their closed-case pizza and she had noticed Jane had looked really tired so she ordered him to go home to get some rest. He refused as usual, but she had put her foot down until he finally gave up, hands held high in mock defeat.

" _Woman, you need to relax! Two words... Chamomile tea."_ he had teased, but he stood and had said goodbye to her and the rest of the team and had sauntered off to his car and home.

So where was he?

She held back any panic that was trying to take over and decided to think with a level head. There would be an explanation for all of this, Jane probably lost his phone and cancelled his service. Yeah…that was it…but Jane would have called her from another line to tell her what he did.

Or he'd already be in, sipping tea on the couch lamenting about how small cellphones were now a days and how easily they could get lost.

Lisbon strode from her office and told the team what she had heard, asking Cho to accompany her to Jane's house. With Red John still on the loose she wanted to make sure that Jane was okay, and to chew him out and let Cho at him if he was home in his bathrobe drinking tea and claiming he needed a day off.

However, when they arrived at Jane's house that wasn't the case; his car was in the driveway, but the front door was ajar, the house dark.

They found his car keys on a table near the front entrance. At the foot of the stairs they found a small pool of blood and Lisbon had felt a part of herself break apart.

_She shouldn't have told him to go home…_

"Maybe it's not his blood." whispered Cho seeing the sudden paleness on his boss' face.

She had nodded and they searched the house, but to no avail. There was no sign of Jane.

Lisbon had tried to keep her breathing even as she called the rest of the team and told them what they had found. She ordered them to get as many people out to Jane's house as soon as possible.

_They would find him._

_xxxxx_

Hours later, when the blood they found came back positive for Jane's, the team sat in silence.

Jane was…well... _Jane_ ; nothing was supposed to happen to him. This had to be Red John.

"Everything stops until we find him." ordered Lisbon. "Everything." She turned and marched off to Bertram's office to tell him that her team would be working solely on getting Jane back and she would dare him to deny them that.

The rest of them nodded in agreement and the top notch CBI team got to work.

xxxxx

He didn't want to wake up, the pull of the sweet darkness was too great; but slowly, Patrick opened his eyes, groaning as his body rippled in pain.

"Lisbon…" he whispered.

"No, keep trying." came the voice. "But I'm not ready for you to wake up yet."

Patrick felt the taser against his skin, this time it was held longer against him until his screams turned to gasps for breath. His world flashed white, then red, then black.

xxxxx

Cho glanced in Lisbon's office as he walked by. She was still seated on the couch going through the file they created for Jane. She was looking over the list of suspects they considered dangerous who might want to harm the consultant, as he had a way of pissing people off before getting them locked up. They had to cover all their bases, if Red John didn't take Jane, they had to look elsewhere. Cho slowly walked back to his desk sitting down heavily in his chair.

"She's still in there." he said to Van Pelt and Rigsby who were waiting by his desk.

"She's been in there for two days now." sighed Van Pelt staring at the closed door of Lisbon's office.

"We gotta find Jane." whispered Rigsby, sadness shading his face as he thought about what would happen to the team if they didn't; what would happen to Lisbon if they didn't.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

Patrick gasped into wakefulness when a bucket of ice cold water was thrown on him. Shivering harshly, it took him a few moments to remember where he was; then the face of his captor appeared over him, their faces inches apart.

"Ah, there you are, thought you were planning on sleeping forever." smiled the man.

He pulled his face back and Patrick finally got a good look at the man who had him. He was middle –aged with brown greying hair and deep grey eyes and was wearing what looked like army-surplus clothing.

"You…you're not Red John?" asked Jane, grimacing at the pain shooting through his cold body.

"No." The man replied.

"Why are you-you doing this? Do I know you?"

The man grinned and Patrick feared the look of utter madness in his eyes.

"I'm Everett Clauson."

Patrick squinted, trying to go through his mind looking for any recognition of that name and came up empty.

"We've never met." said Clauson. "You did however know my half-brother Lucas. Lucas Milner, ring any bells in that noggin of yours?"

Patrick struggled, but couldn't come up with a face to match the name.

"Well! Musta hit you with that shovel harder than I thought!" Clauson grinned. "Let me bring you up to speed. You and your yahoo agent friends were working on an inside trading case about a year ago...remember?"

Clauson sighed at Patrick's blank expression then continued.

"Lucas was just doing what needed to be done in this messed up world of ours. But to catch him, you made him think that his own father had turned against him. OUR own father!" Clauson yelled, shaking the side of the bed causing Patrick to groan out loud, his stomach churning at the sudden movement.

"Well of course Lucas had to kill him, there's nothing worse than betrayal. Then…then to find out our dad had nothing to do with anything! He was innocent...and you used him to get what you wanted! Now my brother is sitting in jail and our dad is dead…and you? You just got a tsk tsk and a slap on your wrist! I know all about you Mr. Jane. I know of all the lives you've ruined over the years."

"I'm sorry." whispered Patrick.

"No." snarled Clauson. "You're not…but you will be."

He walked to the back of the room and pulled a small table over to the side of the bed. On the table was a wooden box with a latch. Clauson slowly turned back the lid of the box and pulled out a syringe filled with an amber liquid.

"I'm not a man of finance like my brother, Mr. Jane. But there's one thing I do know; one thing I'm really good at doling out." He flicked the syringe and slowly brought it to Patrick's arm.

"No, please, no!"

"That one thing is pain. I'm going to show you what it's all about."

He jabbed the syringe into Patrick's arm and injected the liquid. When he pulled the syringe out Clauson cocked his head and smiled as Patrick screamed as the liquid flowed through his body like lava. Then he was swallowed up by a tornado of pain that held him so tight that he couldn't even pass out. So, like a fish out of water he lay gasping, tethered to the bed his eyes unseeing, his face screwed in agony.

xxxxx

Three weeks later, the CBI team started to lose hope. They had done everything they could and not one lead had panned out, not one piece of evidence came to light, not one suspect shone brighter than the others.

Bertram had called Lisbon into his office and told her that her team would have to move on to new cases. He held his hand up to quiet her arguments and told her that they could still look into finding out what happened to Jane, but that they had to move on.

Lisbon only nodded at him, and then left his office. She told her team and they promised each other that they'd still keep looking for Jane. Then Lisbon had walked into her office, closed the blinds to the room then lay down on her couch, curled in on herself and cried.

xxxxx

Patrick curled up against the wall in a corner of the room searching for warmth. He yanked warily at the chains around both wrists, the other end attached to an unmoving bolt in the floor. His ankles were also chained, the chains long enough that he couldn’t stand, but could move around a little without too much struggle.

He didn't know how long he'd been in the room. It could have been a few hours since he'd last seen Lisbon and the others, but he didn't think so. It felt...longer.

He had woken up a while back to find himself chained to the ground, the bed lying vacant in front of him and couldn't help but smile a little when he saw that he had on a pair of sweat pants. He swore he'd never go naked again if he ever got out of this predicament. He sighed then, looking down at the bruises on his torso. He had trouble remembering everything that had happened, but the bits and pieces of memories he had made his stomach clench in fear and frustration. Clauson had been using him as a punching bag and when he wasn't, he was injecting him with what Patrick had come to know as liquid agony.

Clauson entered the room then, carrying a tray with a sandwich and a bottle of water on it and Patrick awkwardly lunged at him, the chains making him rebound back against the ground. Clauson paused, staring at him for a moment, then he set the tray down just at the edge of Patrick's reach, then pulled up the lone chair in the room and sat down facing him.

Patrick eyed the food, then Clauson who was sitting staring at him with an annoying smile on his face.

“I know you’re hungry, Patrick. It’s been ages since I’ve fed you.” He motioned towards the food. “Come on, eat up.”

Patrick honestly couldn't remember the last time he ate. He was worried about the lapses in his memory, but he realized once the food was placed in front of him that he was very hungry indeed. He bit his lip watching the food knowing it was probably drugged and then looked at Clauson.

"They're going to find me, you know."

"Who? Your team?" the man scoffed.

"Patrick, what makes you think they're even looking for you?"

Clauson looked at him in pity. "Come now, eat up." He stood, pulled the chair far from Patrick's reach, and then left the room.

Patrick frowned. "They're looking for me." he muttered to himself, then turned to the closed door.

"LISBON'S LOOKING FOR ME!" he yelled, wincing at the pounding in his head.

_So how come she hasn't found me yet?_

He turned to the food, he really did need to eat. Pulling the tray towards him he closed his eyes and took a bite.

Peanut butter never tasted so heavenly.

In less than five minutes he finished the sandwich and bottle of water. Sitting against the wall, Patrick thought back to when he last saw Lisbon and the others. He remembered being in the office on his couch. Then…then he was here in this room…in hell …with a crazy man.

He yanked feebly at the chains around his wrists; Clauson had barely fed him and with the beatings and drugging him Patrick knew he wouldn't be able to break free of the chains and escape. He had to find some way to get to Clauson mentally. He was good at that. If he could just think clearly he knew he…

He bent forward as his stomach contracted then rolled heavily. Taking a deep breath he groaned as his eyesight started to waver in front of him.

_No no no…_

Turning into the corner of the room he threw up harshly, his whole body spasming…the vomit spattering on his chest and pants.

_He was right, the food_ **_was_ ** _drugged._

Patrick crawled backwards away from the puke as far as the chains would let him then sat with his back to the wall, despair enveloping his mind.

_Lisbon, please…help me…_

The door to the room opened and Clauson walked back in, one hand behind his back. He glanced at Patrick, then at the pool of vomit on the floor and spattered on Patrick's body.

Clauson's eyes narrowed. "You would do this, after all I've done for you? I give you food, I give you clothing and this is how you repay me, by soiling everything?!"

He pulled out a leather bound billy club from behind his back and lunged at Patrick whose vision had funneled to a point that it was like he was underwater looking up from the bottom of a well. He barely got his arms up around his head in time as Clauson attacked him, raining down blows against his arms and chest.

"Food was dr-drugged! S-stop...please…oh God!" Patrick cried out.

When Clauson finally did stop, he dropped the club and breathing heavily, crouched next to the consultant’s curled in body. Patrick, barely conscious made only small hitching noises.

Clauson was thinking that had to make the consultant see. He had to make him understand the consequences of what he had done to his brother. Moments later, nodding to himself, he smiled; a plan starting to form in his mind.

"I hope you can hear this, Mr. Consultant. I told you I wasn't Red John, and that was true. But I never said I didn't know _who_ he was. You're a fool Patrick. He's been right in front of you for so long. Wayne Rigsby is the man you hate, Patrick. He's the man who murdered your family…your little girl. He's Red John."

He watched as the consultant, shuddered then fall limp into unconsciousness and hoped that he had heard every word. _  
_

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

_\- Three months later -_

Lisbon sighed and turned to look at the alarm clock on her nightstand.

4:00 a.m.

She barely slept anymore. Her dreams, filled with nightmarish images of Jane and a shadowy Red John torturing him. Jane's body lying somewhere, slowly decaying because they couldn't find him in time. They were still trying to find him, but with each passing day, with each month that dropped away since he was taken…the case had gone cold.

She needed to get up, go to work, distract herself…anything to stop the images from bombarding her, from tearing her heart apart.

She rolled out of bed and slouched off to shower; she'd head to the office and get some work done.

xxxxx

She met up with Van Pelt as she entered the CBI building.

“Boss.” Van Pelt smiled. “Couldn't sleep either, huh?”

Lisbon smiled faintly at her agent.

When they got off the elevator on their floor, Van Pelt headed for the kitchen.

"I'll make us some coffee." she offered.

"Thanks." smiled Lisbon, "I'll be in my office."

A few minutes later as Lisbon settled down with a sigh behind her desk with her first file of the morning, she heard a loud gasp and crash coming from the bullpen.

Frowning, she walked over to her door, opening it.

“Van Pelt?" she called out.

"Boss!" came back the reply.

Lisbon quickly exited her office, her hand not far from the gun in her holster. She turned towards the entrance to the bullpen and found Van Pelt frozen, staring straight ahead. By her feet, a puddle of coffee and porcelain shards from the two mugs she had dropped.

"Grace?" Lisbon walked over to her then turned to see what she was staring at.

Her eyes widened, there was someone lying on Jane's couch.

The person's face was hidden, their body turned towards the back of the couch, but they had blond hair and was wearing a suit, like…

"Jane?" whispered Lisbon.

Her body jerked forward and she found herself running towards the couch.

"Jane!"

She dropped to her knees by the couch and grabbed the shoulder of the person lying there, slowly turning them over.

"Oh God!"

It was Jane. Lisbon couldn't believe it. She turned to Van Pelt with tears in her eyes.

"Grace! Call 911!"

Van Pelt broke from her trance-like state and ran to her phone.

Lisbon wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at Patrick. He was pale and so still, blood stained his hair and side of his face.

_Please, don't let him be dead…_

She gently shook his arm. "Jane?" she whispered.

His eyelids fluttered, a soft inhale leaving his lips.

She cupped his face with her hand and noticed dark bruising around his neck.

“Jane?” she whispered, her emotions a whirlwind.

No response.

Lisbon slowly moved her gaze down his body checking for any other wounds. He was wearing the same suit he had on when she last saw him months before, but it was dirty and wrinkled. She took his hands in hers and held them tight, that's when she saw more bruising, this time around his pale wrists.

She turned to Van Pelt who was rushing towards them.

"They're on their way!" said Van Pelt, her eyes on Jane. "He…he's not…?"

"No, he's alive!"

They both stared at their consultant, their friend, with tears in their eyes. It was obvious Jane had lost some weight and his hair was longer and disheveled. This along with the blood against the paleness of his skin was a horrible sight.

He looked… _dead_.

Lisbon grabbed Jane's hands tightly to her chest and held them there until the paramedics arrived. When they did…and with a short explanation she was off running behind the gurney that was carrying her friend to the hospital.

Van Pelt ran towards her own car shouting into her cellphone to Rigsby, telling him the good news and that he and Cho should meet them at the hospital.

Jane was back.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

The waiting room was a study in emotions as the CBI team sat waiting to hear any news on Jane.

Cho sat staring at the closed doors to the emergency unit; his face, stoic.

Across from him, Rigsby and Van Pelt sat next to each other. Rigsby had his arm around her comforting her as she wiped at her tears. He patted her shoulder while he watched Cho watch the doors.

Lisbon stood by the window in the waiting room, not really looking at anything outside; her eyes were turned inward trying to come to terms with the two emotions warring within her: guilt and fear.

She felt guilty, for not doing more to find Jane and fear over what had been done to him.

"We should have done more to find him." said Van Pelt, tears streaming down her face.

Cho turned to her, "We looked everywhere for him. We did the best we could."

"Well it wasn't enough!" she shouted. "You didn't see him, it was horrible!"

Rigsby gripped her tightly and she leaned against his shoulder shuddering through her tears.

Lisbon turned to them. "Cho's right. We did the best we could. Jane was just...gone." She walked over and sat next to Cho. "He's going to be okay. We got him back. He's going to be okay."

She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince them or herself.

Five hours and two coffee runs later, the doors to the emergency unit opened and a doctor came out glancing down at a clipboard.

"Family of Patrick Jane?"

They all stood and Lisbon stepped forward. "Yes, that's us."

The doctor glanced at them sensing their apprehension.

"Come with me."

They walked quickly behind the doctor down a hallway and to a private waiting room.

"Please have a seat."

They sat and watched as the doctor pulled up a chair in front of them.

"My name is Doctor Salathiel, I was the on-duty doctor when Mr. Jane came into the E.R."

"He's okay, right?" whispered Lisbon not looking the doctor in the eye, fearing his response.

The doctor sighed. "Mr. Jane is holding his own. I was told that he had been held against his will?"

"Yes." nodded Lisbon.

"And he just showed up back at his workplace?"

"Doctor," said Cho, his voice steady. "Get to the point. Is he going to be okay?"

The doctor stared at Cho for a beat then turned to everyone.

“Mr. Jane's skin is quite pale; this could be explained by him having been kept away from the outdoors for a long period of time. He has extensive bruising and burn scars over his body, most likely from some type of taser weapon. He has signs that he had a concussion occurrence within the last few months...and another more recent concussion this one not as bad, but still something to worry about. He has ligature marks around his neck by most likely an attempted strangulation with some type of rope. He has bruising around his wrists and ankles as well and…" he paused. "Is Mr. Jane a drug user?"

"What!?" shouted Lisbon, her eyes now locked onto the doctor’s. "Of course not!"

The doctor shook his head sadly. "We found multiple injection marks on both of his arms. And we found a cocktail of drugs in his system that we're still trying to sort out. I'm sorry, but all signs point to torture."

"Red John did this to him!" Rigsby exclaimed.

Lisbon kept staring at the doctor. "No," she said. "He didn't. Red John would have kept him, or would have killed him. He wouldn't have returned him to us. Dr. Salathiel, when can we see him?"

"We're going to move him to ICU in about half an hour. You can see him then; but only one of you at a time, five minutes each."

The doctor stood and looked at them. "Mr. Jane survived his ordeal. He's strong. I have high hopes that he'll get through this." He nodded at them and left the room.

"Thank you doctor." whispered Lisbon to the closing door.

She told the others they could take turns seeing Jane before her; she wanted to be last.

Once they were done she told them to head back to the office. They took the suit Patrick was brought in wearing back with them to have it checked for any evidence that could be found. Also, the bullpen had become a crime scene and she wanted them to be there. They couldn't find Jane when he was taken, but they sure as hell were going to find out who took him and she prayed that there was some evidence they'd find that would put them on the right track.

xxxxx

Lisbon slowly walked into Patrick's room and watched him through hooded tear-filled eyes. He was almost the color of the sheets he lay on. His blonde hair lay matted against his head, a bandage near his temple and a large reddish bruise lay prominent on the side of his face. His wrists were wrapped in bandages.

The thin hospital gown he wore barely hid the bruising along his upper arms and chest. Some were faded but she saw patches of dark blackish blue bruising that made her cringe in sympathy for him.

"Who did this to you, Jane? Who did this?" She gently touched his arm and lowered her head in silence.

xxxxx

"I thought I said only five minutes." Dr. Salathiel said walking towards Lisbon who hovered in front of Patrick's room, sipping on a cup of vending machine coffee.

It was a few hours later. Lisbon had called the office. There was no news yet.

“The nurses are checking on him," she motioned towards his room. "I'm going back in when they're done."

"No, you're not." said the doctor.

"Excuse me?" Lisbon's eyes narrowed in anger.

"Agent Lisbon, Mr. Jane will be out for a while. He needs to rest, he's been through a lot. He's your co-worker right?"

"And my friend."

"Then I'm sure he'd want you to do two things. To take care of yourself. So go home, get something to eat and get some rest. As well, he'd also want you to find out who did this to him. Am I right?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes in acquiescence. "You're right."

"So, please." He motioned her away from Patrick's door. "I have your number. I'll call you the moment anything changes."

"Anything, right?"

"Yes. Now let me go and take care of my patient."

Lisbon nodded but grabbed his arm as he turned. "He-he's cared about."

Dr. Salathiel touched her hand that held him. "That's quite obvious." He gave her a quick smile then turned and entered Patrick's room.

Lisbon stared at the door for a moment then strode down the hallway throwing her coffee cup in the nearby garbage. She'd return to the CBI and try to put a rush on the efforts to hunt down Jane's abductor.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Checking in...How are you finding it so far?


End file.
